


Simon and Markus Seduce Connor

by hidama



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Handsy Simon, M/M, Multi, Oblivious Connor, Plot What Plot, Poor Connor, Smut, Teasing Markus, smutty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidama/pseuds/hidama
Summary: Chapters are vignettes of where Connor somehow ends up being seduced by Markus, Simon, or both.





	1. You Should Hurry Home

**What Appeared to Have Happened**

Connor is relaxing at Hank’s house, sitting on the couch and petting Sumo while watching the basketball game. As the game nears the end, Hank is hollering the screen when a foul ball is called and suddenly Connor seems more alert, tense even. Then he appears calm for a bit, and then suddenly is gripping his jean-clad thighs, and a moment after that his eyes go comically wide.

Hank misses all this, having been cheering that the other team missed their free throws and that Michigan was still in the game.

A few moments pass before Connor clears his throat, and abruptly stands up and dusts the dog hair off his legs.

Connor made a noise like clearing this throat. "Uh, Hank, it’s about time I go. Thanks for the evening.

 **"** What? There’s 4 minutes left on the clock how could you leave now?"

 **"** I..." Connor breathed deeply. "Oh, I really, really should get going."

Hank finally tore his eyes away from the game and noticed the android acting nervous. "Are you alright, Connor?"

"Yes, absolutely," Connor replied hastily. "I’m just going to call a cab and see myself out. Good night!

 

* * *

 

**What Really Happened**

 

Connor is relaxing at Hank’s house, sitting on the couch and petting Sumo while watching the basketball game. As the game nears the end, Hank is hollering the screen when a foul ball is called and suddenly Connor seems more alert, tense even.

 _You should hurry home,_  Markus interrupted telepathically. _Simon and I are waiting._

_The game is almost over, I’ll be home soon._

Then he appears calm for a bit, and then suddenly is gripping his jean clad thighs, and a moment after that his eyes go comically wide.

_Simon’s lips are so soft. You remember kissing them, don’t you? And Simon always has that bruising grip on your hips when you press against him and bite at his ear. And you can feel his grip convulse when you slip a hand up under his shirt..._

_Markus, stop! I’m at Hank’s!_

Hank misses all this, having been cheering that the other team missed their free throws and that Michigan was still in the game.

_I’ll stop the moment you walk through our bedroom door. God, that bedroom door. Do you remember when I pushed you against that door frame and pushed up your shirt? When my mouth was on your chest, you squirmed and whimpered like you were trying to escape, like you wanted to run away from pleasure._

_Shit! Markus, I literally have like 5 more minutes please just wait I can’t do this at Hank’s._

_I’m not going to wait. I’m going to torture you with this until you stumble in, blind with need._

A few moments pass before Connor clears his throat, and abruptly stands up and dusts the dog hair off his legs.

Connor made a noise like clearing this throat. "Uh, Hank, it’s about time I go. Thanks for the evening.

 **"** What? There’s 4 minutes left on the clock how could you leave now?"

_Oh god, I loved that time against the doorframe. It was the first time you really let us touch you. Your LED kept flickering from yellow to red because you kept trying to fight the sensations and, Connor, that was the biggest thrill of all for us. Knowing you wanted this but was fighting it because it was strange and new..._

**"** I..." Connor breathed deeply. "Oh, I really, really should get going."

_I swear I’m leaving right now you’ve got to stop..._

Hank finally tore his eyes away from the game and noticed the android acting nervous. "Are you alright, Connor?"

_The way you sound now is how you sounded then. You’re fighting your reactions._

**"** Yes, absolutely," Connor replied hastily. "I’m just going to call a cab and see myself out. Good night!

_And then when we slid your pants down your hips—_

_No, no-no-no. I’m leaving! I literally walked out the door you have to stop talking to me or I won’t even make it home._

_I’ll give you a ten minute break to make it home._

_But the cab ride is at least 15 minutes—Oh._

_By the way, Simon said for me to tell you, that you should take off your shirt and tie but leave the jacket on._

_God, I’m going to die. This is how I die._

_Simon also says that if you’re going to die, death by pillow talk is in the top 10 ways to go._

The cab arrives.

 **"** Thank god," Connor mumbled aloud.


	2. Maybe He Should Have Left Them At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He totally should have left them at home.

Markus gently placed his hand on Connor’s thigh, and pressed small circles with his thumb into the inner muscles. Connor was immediately suspicious.

 _Just what are you planning?_ he queried telepathically.

_Nothing. Just being reassuring._

Connor felt the relief wash over. _Oh. Okay._

But a millisecond later, Simon also placed his hand on the opposite thigh and ran his thumb gently in soothing arcs against the leg. It startled him and he turned to Markus, eyes accusatory.

_You ARE planning something, aren’t you?_

In that brief pause, Markus slid his hand further up, and Simon’s inched up as well.

_Hmm? Oh, nothing I planned._

Connor turned to glare at Simon for putting this ludicrous idea in Markus’ mind, but Simon had his back to him, engaged in a conversation with the person seated next to him.

Simon’s hand slid further up. Markus’ followed suit. Connor bit his lip and resisted the temptation to slouch in his chair.

 _We’re in_ _public!_ he shamed Simon. _At a DPD annual dinner!_

It had no effect. Simon just moved his hand even higher, now indecently close and continued his conversation with the officer seated next to him, ignoring Connor.

Connor wasn't sure if he should yell at them both or get up from his seat in the middle of dinner or... whatever you're supposed to do when your lovers are acting like... like... complete animals... at a social function. He squashed the warmth flowing through his system and bit back a sigh. Maybe he could shift in his chair very subtly and escape...

He settled on the most reasonable course of action: yelling at them both discretely. _I can’t leave you at home, or you’ll do something, and now I bring you here, and you do something! I literally can’t take you guys anywhere._

Markus’ hand slid up the last half inch, and suddenly Simon was looking straight at Connor.

_Did I hear something about taking someone?_

Markus grinned.  _Why I believe he did mention that._

Connor groaned quietly and slouched in his chair. He should have left them at home.

Simon’s hands started tugging at his belt.

Oh god, he really should have left them at home.


	3. The Plan Had to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can't handle them together, separate them.

This plan was going to work, he told himself as he walked into the gala entrance.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 67%.

 

Actually, the chances it was going to succeed was lower than he’d like, but the plan had to work. It just had to.

Since he couldn’t leave them at home or take them with him, he’d decided to split them up. The telepathic tease would stay close to him, and the handsy Casanova would remain at home.

And besides, the event was at the Detroit Institute of Arts—Markus had been there many times before with his father, and would be genuinely interested in attending this event and would be knowledgeable about its artwork. Connor had a difficult time appreciating the arts; he found himself either fidgeting and bored or psychoanalyzing the creator rather than appreciating or understanding the creation. It would be good to have Markus help him understand the art.

A half hour into the charity gala and Connor felt himself relaxing. He had only the briefest chatter from Simon, and Markus was smiling winsomely at the guests and making small talk.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 79%.

 

His plan was working.

Just as the tension left his body, Markus returned, and placed his hand on his lower back and titled his head, gesturing to the gallery wing.

“Of course,” Connor smiled. He had promised Markus minimal schmoozing at the beginning and end of the night, and the chance to walk the halls and view the exhibits.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 81%.

 

As they walked into the first exhibit—contemporary art—they stopped in an alcove in front of a large painting. Connor felt Markus lean close, and he sighed internally, steeling himself for a long artists’ critique.

“Did you know there are 6 blind spots in this security system?”

Connor laughed, turning to look at him. “Are you admitting to a police officer that you’re going to steal from a museum?”

Markus cocked an eyebrow and looked over Connor slowly. “I’m admitting to my boyfriend that he looks very ravishable in a tux.”

“Ravishing is what you’re looking for. Ravishable isn’t a word.” Connor smiled softly. “And you look good, too, as always. Simon and I are often envious of how you can make anything look fashionable and natural.”

Markus smiled warmly at the compliment. Then his hand returned to Connor’s lower back and he leaned in again, lips moving against the shell of his ear.

“By the way, the word I was looking for was ravishable. Because. You. Are. Very much in need. Of being. Ravished.”

 

 > > Plan success rate: 28%.

 

His plan’s success rate dropped significantly.

“Oh,” was all Connor could say as a faint heat spread across his face and neck. And then a cold dread settled on him as his mind began connecting the dots. “Why did you mention the security system?”

Markus grinned, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the corner just left of the large painting.

When they neared the wall Markus abruptly stopped, looped his finger under the detective’s bow tie, and dragged him forward for a kiss. Connor felt the free hand return to his back, pressing him close—oh, god, that’s not what it was doing, Connor panicked. It began pulling up his clothes and then it slid under the layers of jacket, vest, and shirt. He shuddered when they connected.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 11%.

 

This wasn’t a part of the plan. The plan was supposed to work. The plan had to work.

He shivered as he felt Markus’s lust echo in his mind.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 7%.

 

His plan was failing.

Markus’ laugh echoed in his thoughts.

_Your plan had one vital flaw,_ Markus spoke in his mind. _You assumed Simon was the—how did you put it? Handsy one._

Dimly, Connor could feel deft fingers slip off his bow tie and begin work on the top buttons.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 5%.

 

“What?” He huffed aloud, breaking the kiss. Markus didn’t miss a beat—he moved his mouth to Connor’s neck.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 4%.

 

_Haven’t you ever wondered why I always let Simon lead?_

Connor didn’t speak and instead relayed his surprise through the connection. Markus’ emotions were intense and awakening an answering call deep inside him and leaving him wordless. As Markus marked the side of his neck, an old emotion flowed through their connection. Fear.

_Simon is playful and daring but... not as intense. You were so shy and all of this was so new and I thought you’d retreat if I ever initiated._

Connor forced himself back from the embrace and grabbed Markus’ chin to look him square in the eye. _I’ll never run away from you._

Connor knew they were the right words when the feelings of relief tinged with awe entered their connection.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 8%.

 

But soon that feeling was overpowered with the thrill of a predator cornering its prey, about to leap for the kill.

 

 > > Plan success rate: 2%.

 

And suddenly Markus’ free hand was grabbing his hair, tugging his head to reveal the unmarked side of his neck.

_Oh, and the reason Simon is being quiet is that I promised I’d share all of my memories of ravishing you at each and every blind spot tonight._

Connor felt his system heat up invitingly and a shiver traveled down his spine.

 

 > > Plan success rate: FAILURE.


	4. Shy Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A soft interlude: Connor doesn't realize Simon likes him back. Takes place outside the other vignettes.

Being around Markus, he always felt like he had a purpose: to help behind-the-scenes to keep New Jericho running, to be a person their leader could bounce ideas off of, or—secretly his favorite—the person to chastise Markus for taking on all of the responsibilities instead of asking for help from his friends. 

Being busy kept him from feeling the unsettling, exciting energy that filled him when he thought about him. 

But with Connor... 

He was never busy with Connor. 

He didn't help him with DPD, Connor didn't need to bounce ideas off him, and frankly, it felt strange if he told Connor he was working too hard, even though he has. 

So when he was alone with Connor, he was desperate to do something. Some busy work.

But it was never engaging enough for his cortex, and that excitement and nausea and... brightness would fill him up, upsetting his system's balance.

It was the worst when Connor would ask him for details about his life. When the detective would want to sit and talk with him, kind of like how he did with Markus. Be the person Simon could vent to. To share his emotions with. 

In his calm voice, he would ask Simon to tell him all the ways he felt. And when Simon would inevitably freeze up, unsure what to do with his rising stress levels and these strange... feelings...he'd just move to sit right next to him, shoulders touching, and look out at the same scenery Simon was studying. 

Ever patient. Always OK with silence. Never running away from his feelings by being busy. 

One time, when they were sitting on the roof in the early twilight, Simon tried to stall the detective's line of questioning. 

"But why do you always ask me these things? I mean, I just vent to you and yet you keep coming back."

Connor smiled softly and turned his head to look right into his eyes. "It's because I love you." He paused, his smile turning playful. "Just like the way you love Markus." 

"L-like," Simon felt the very human urge to clear his throat, even though nothing was there. "Like how I... love... Markus?" 

Connor nodded. "Just like how you love Markus. Oh, and he knows this, too, by the way." 

Simon felt distant from his own body—a system-wide weakness rushed through his body as he processed the words. 

"And Markus loves you, too. Just in case, you know, you didn't know that. I have a feeling you kind of knew that somewhere in there," Connor playfully tapped his index finger against the side of blond's forehead, "but just haven't really processed it." 

So many alarms. Stress levels too high. Pump malfunctioning but in parameters. Sensors overloading. 

"You... love me?" 

If Simon wasn't in the middle of a near system-wide meltdown, he would have laughed at the blush creeping up Connor's face and his wild gestures; his calm, steady exterior reduced to a comical gracelessness. 

"I.. of course I love you. But you don't, um, you don't have to reciprocate that. It's just me. You can love Markus and he can love you and you don't have to like me like that. It's OK. I know you really love Markus and that I'm not like in the running or anything, just like, a friend." 

No, no Connor was wrong. He loved Connor, too. 

Oh ra9, that feeling, it was too intense. He had to do something. Something busy. 

He couldn't bear to feel like this. 

So instead, with a rash urgency, his hands braced the detective's surprised features and he crushed his lips against his. 

It uh, let's be honest, wasn't what he was thinking of when he frantically tried to think of something to do, something to focus on. But once he focused on the feeling of kissing him—and oh, and the feeling of being kissed back—he felt his systems slide from red alerts to a calming, steady blue.


	5. Simon in the Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually it's Connor in the middle. But not today.

Moving in tandem, hands smoothed over the top of his hips, pressing him firmly back into the warm body behind him. He inhaled sharply as lips brushed against his neck, forming the words against his skin.

“Let’s play Simon in the middle." 

A fine tremor ran through his frame and he exhaled shakily.

Connor, ahead of him, had already turned when he heard the gasp and was watching in rapt attention as Markus moved a possessive arm around his waist and the other across his chest, trapping him against his body.

“No, no,” he protested weakly. “It’s Connor in the middle, not Simon in the middle.”

Connor stepped close to him, brown eyes sharp and analyzing every single one of his body’s reactions.

“But I’m always in the middle, Simon. Wouldn’t it be nice to try something new?”

The detective then reached out for his hand and brought it close to his lips. His tongue peeked out to give a tentative lick to the pad of his index finger.

“Then make it Markus in the middle,” he panicked. He felt the huff of quiet laughter against his skin right before the man pulled down his shirt to bite at the juncture of his neck.

“But you’re already here, right between us,” Connor observed. Then he slowly—no, obscenely—wet his lips and drew in the finger into his mouth.

Simon’s free hand flew to his mouth to muffle the sounds he made as Markus moved to work on the other side of his neck and Connor’s tongue thrust and rubbed on the underside of his index finger.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a taste of what happens when Markus, Simon, and Connor are left to their ways.


End file.
